


The Way Soldiers Do It

by L_C_Weary



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Laurent Has A Crush On Jord, M/M, Orlant Trying To Seduce Laurent In The Clumsiest Way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_C_Weary/pseuds/L_C_Weary
Summary: Laurent, accidentally, walked in on Jord and Orlant taking their pleasure in each other.





	The Way Soldiers Do It

**Author's Note:**

> Not first language. No beta. You can figure the rest.

Laurent wasn't - technically – engaging in criminal activity, yet he felt somewhat caught red-handed, roaming the hallways of the palace so late into the night. He spent more time in the bath contemplating and just enjoying solitude than it was strictly necessary, moreover alone, which was forbidden by Auguste, but he just ignored it with ease.

Auguste was just too paranoid after everything. Laurent understood perfectly what their uncle's treacherous behaviour brought on them, strategy and emotional-wise too, however he didn't let himself be overwhelmed by grief, even if their father's death got a new perspective now. They needed to focus on weeding out the supporters their uncle left in his death and they had to move on. Not making up nonsensical rules.

Because everything Laurent enjoyed was now had to be forbidden to be done alone. He couldn't just go ride alone - What if someone wants to assassinate you? -, he couldn't work or spend his free time in the library without a guard watching him - The library is huge, what if no one hears your cry for help during an attack? - and he couldn't even go down to the kitchen just to help cutting vegetables while chatting with Irina - What if someone tries to poison you? We haven't check everyone who could somehow gain access to the kitchens just yet!

So, no, Auguste wasn't having his calmest days. Nevertheless, he was still alive, standing and his mood got better as his trials of everyone's loyalty was winding down with more and more success. Although, Laurent realised with certain resignation, his brother was never going to be the same, which Auguste also explained was a part of growing up. Losing the ability to trust blindly, he meant by that, as he tried to convince Laurent. According to the king, Laurent was just too tiny to know just yet. Auguste ignored his brother's age in the last few years now, not wanting to see that Laurent was no longer a child, but a young man, and still used the word tiny to describe him to his annoyance.

Auguste was always slightly too protective of him, Laurent wasn't allowed to attend royal meeting, just well after his 15th birthday, when Auguste was doing it since he was 13. Not that Laurent was too keen attending those meetings. After their uncle's execution and with Auguste still without a child, Laurent was the second highest lord in the kingdom, which left him with the dignified task of entertaining, manipulating and charming lords, ladies, delegations and trying to maintaining the friendly relationship with Vask, Akielos and Patras.

The meetings were important, but not his favourite activity. According to Auguste enduring boring and tedious meetings were what really made a ruler. Laurent didn't comment on it back then, since he always had time and opportunity to rewind after those. Except in the last half a year, because of the prohibitions. The whole household of Auguste was suffering silently and Laurent was no exception.

That was why he was sneaking around, choosing the inner training grounds instead of the main hallway, where he was likely to be caught by Auguste's personal guards, who were - in situations like this - _infuriatingly_ loyal and would've reported Laurent too. And he was not in a mood to face his brother and his silly concerns.

Not that this route was without security, over the faint noise of the fountains, Laurent could here soft humming and the moving shadows indicated guards walking by. Laurent already crossed three enclosed gardens without raising suspicion, he had only one left at the end of the corridor. He felt like a chivalric novel's hero, almost ashamed that he was having fun with this small mischief of his, yet the flow of Auguste's constant concerns heightening his sense of paranoia too.

He had a knife with him all the time now, so he was gripping it with one hand, the other holding his boots. It would already be a disgrace to be found only in pants, an open jacket, with his shirt loose and sole bare, but he was only crossing from the bath straight to his bed, and he could avoid attention better without the clicking of his boots. He was honestly just tired, he craved his bed, like Auguste craved wine those days, the cold tiles already bringing unpleasant chill to his feet, after the scorching hot bath.

Then he heard a rather loud sound, his pulse ricocheting immediately. It wasn't prominent enough to alert soldiers dozen or more paces away but it sounded harsh to his ears. It was a loud thrum, possibly just a weapon holder shelf falling down. It could've easily been a drunk soldier colliding with the equipment bench, but as Auguste was more careful then necessary all his guards were stationed in pairs, no lonely soldier should've been staggering alone. There was expected to be hushed disapproval at least. Laurent froze waiting for either that or drunken laughter.

There were murmurs or swearing, he wasn't sure, mostly likely nothing he should've been frightened of. He just needed to be reassured by the soldiers rearranging the shelf again. The sound that followed was, however, more similar to the first one, like swords and shields clinking together without control. Then more murmuring, now with a low chuckle accompanying the conversation the soldier, intruders, lords or ladies with a death wish were having.

Laurent was debating what would be the most efficient way of dealing with the situation at hand. He could report to Auguste, which would result in fuelling the king's paranoia. That, Laurent didn't want to risk if it was truly just wandering servants. He could just ask for a few soldiers to help him, but that would lead to his own exposure as an alone-bather, something Laurent was reluctant to give up, even if the situation was serious. Besides, he really wasn't a little boy anymore, he was most likely equipped to investigate alone, he had the vantage point of the darkness. In case of real danger, he could go look for Jord, for example, with proof then.

He, himself wasn’t the greatest warrior, far from it, yet Jord seemed to be satisfied with his performance. Therefore he knew his fear was somewhat unreasonable, he suspected it was only two or three man at most - with actual weapons, though.

The enclosed garden was poorly lit, so he carefully put his boots down and sneaked to the other side of the hallway that was even further away from the garden, so he would have a few steps as advantage, if he was discovered. He gripped the small blade with intention as he inched to the first column, trying to blend in with the shadows.

From the first column, he couldn't really see where the equipment bench were kept, hence he couldn't see the intruders either, but as he didn't raise suspicion so far, he quietly leaped to the next column. To his annoyance, he still had no visual on the people and he started to feel silly and a bit nervous too. He gathered himself and leaped for the third column and he finally could gaze upon who disturbed his late night walk to his bedchamber.

For a few moment, over the beating of his heart, and the fear that he was going to drop the knife, Laurent wasn't sure what he was seeing. When he understood it, by straining his eyes in the dark, he almost barked out a laugh. On one hand he wanted to grimace, he would deserved to be called silly for getting himself worked up over something so trivial, yet a small part of him mused, if would've been easier to handle it what he would've found could be considered hostile.

The scene displayed in front of him proved that Auguste was taking the strict hand a tad far and his household was now more than frustrated, taking any chance they can get to just relax. It was two disturbingly familiar faces, the best of the guard, Jord and Orlant in close proximity.

Laurent could imagine now, what the thuds were, it could be connected to the fact Jord was pushing Orlant vehemently to the equipment bench, strong hands gripping his friend's waist and kissing him. With frightening urgency.

Laurent felt himself flush. It was not like he had never seen anything like this before. Auguste tried to keep him shielded from the delicate performances of the court, but he was no stranger to what spectacle pets made for the entertainment of lords and ladies. And still, this was not a performance and he knew the soldiers very well.

He tried to unite himself with the column, pushing his back against it as violently as possible, the ornaments of the structure biting into his skin through his jacket. Like a signet ring would mark melted wax. Melted wax was something he felt himself similar too, at that moment. His face was aflame, he felt embarrassed and intrigued - which also gave him something to be ashamed of. He had no business there, probably they didn't notice, maybe Laurent didn't make an obvious fool out himself in front of people he actually respected. But he needed to flee the scene.

But he couldn't look away. He was mesmerized by what was unfolding. Jord was just liberating Orlant of his shirt, the captain was already half naked, and with graceless motions, Jord was reaching for the laces on his pants.

The breath got caught in Laurent's throat. He did see some extinguished performances and he read a lot of different kind of literature, yet this was entirely new. This wasn't happening the way Laurent had read about it. Firstly it was Jord and Orlant, fair enough, that gave way to the emotions that encourage Laurent to avert his gaze. But it was also so much more human and intensive. Because as Jord pulled away with a grin, before spinning Orlant around and bending him over the bench with a powerful hand between his shoulder-blades to push him down… That was proprietorial, wild and - if Laurent was honest to himself - very arousing.

Laurent was grateful for the distance between him and the, well, lovebirds, as he fought the urge to just get closer. He could already see too much. Orlant braced himself on his elbows and chuckled as Jord basically tore his friend’s pants down, just enough to expose his arse, which Laurent couldn't actually see, it was hidden behind the bench and Orlant's torso from his vantage point.

Not that the prince was without stimulation. It would be a lie to say he never looked at Jord - or Orlant for that matter - without the intention of finding human beauty in them and not to look for weak spots during duelling. This was just so much different.

The lamp that was place on the bench next to Orlant, dangerously close to the edge, gave Jord's torso a mystical, god-like golden shine. Jord was not a lord or a pet with delicate features, he wasn't handsome in the traditional way, he was powerful, he was made to build and to destroy.

He was a warrior, with stocky built provided by muscles not by fat, with wide shoulders and scars and broken bones, skin not fair, but burnt by sun, torn by everything that battles brought. He stood over Orlant and he was aware that he could do whatever he wanted to his soldier, because he was strong enough, he was made for mending men. Laurent swallowed, hard.

From the way Jord's hand moved it was easy to deduct what he was doing. Laurent was distracted by the way the captain's muscles flexed as he reach inside his pants and pulled himself out. The realization that Laurent wanted to see Jord's cock, the highest ranked soldier's, his tutor in sword fight, his brother's confidant's cock, was making him run hot and cold all over, lighting strange flames in the pit of his stomach.

Jord was smirking, tugging on his cock languidly, another hand roaming over Orlant's back and ass, gripping his soldier's behind.

"What the fuck is taking so long?" Orlant swore, voice rough and very Orlant-like, looking over his shoulder. Jord chuckled, seemingly satisfied with his small teasing, fingers dipping into Orlant, judging from the way his hand moved. Orlant's ringing groan gave some life back to Laurent.

He became aware of everything surrounding him, self-conscious once again. He was sweating, the scent of the bath that stayed on his skin swirling around him. His breathing was laboured and extremely loud to his own ears. Laurent was keeping the knife close to himself, hugging his hand to his chest, like that was protection enough, from notice, from his own rational thoughts.

Jord, finally urged into action by the impatient man, spat into his hand before going back to touching himself for a few movement. Laurent felt like that was not going to work. Doesn't matter what the performing pets wanted to sell, he was sure that wasn't how human anatomy worked, Orlant was going to be in an uncomfortable situation in minutes, if Jord didn't plan on easing the way a bit more attention, maybe with some oil too.

The soldiers didn't seem to dwell on that, not even Orlant mentioned anything as Jord lined himself up and judging from both of their impressions he got himself comfortable inside his soldier. Laurent's fingers around the knife were flexing, his mouth agape.

Orlant was not of a man in pain, no discomfort, not even annoyance was seen on his ox-face. He had his eyes closed, his fingers whitening where he was gripping the end of the bench and he looked quite ecstatic. Like this is what he had been waiting for. Which meant that Orlant was loose enough to take Jord without much of a preparation. Which meant Orlant was regularly taken like this. Which meant Laurent was not alright.

Was Orlant and Jord's relationship exclusive, was this there little secret, or was Orlant's popularity connected to his willingness to submit like this? What was it like to touch him? Over his hanging head, Laurent could see his back muscles extracting and he wondered how Orlant would feel under his touch, his damp skin and tight muscles as fingers would trace's his long faded scars or his spine.

Laurent never experienced anything like this. Not the desire, nor the actually fucking the best of the palace's soldiers were performing. He was never truly interested, not more than a young man his age would, but maybe he was just deprived of the understanding how it could actually go.

Laurent never thought he would see something like this. Contrary to the plays he was made to watch - which were sensual and stimulating yet overplayed and out of proportion artificial - this seemed real, even from the distance it also _felt_ real. When Orlant groaned, deep inside his throat, Laurent's whole body shook, imagining how he could rip a noise like this out of someone. Jord hummed approvingly and Laurent wonder what it felt like to fuck somebody.

As a prince, Laurent, had a pet, of course, but Ancel was barely used for his original purposes. It was rumoured Berenger, the only true friend of Auguste, the last man standing after the purge known as the loyalty test, longed to buy the redhead out. Laurent wasn't as outraged by that as the public was expected him to be.

The only thing that ever happened between Ancel and Laurent was one tentative kiss, and a lot of enthusiasm from Ancel's part, so something would just happen. And also Laurent demanded Ancel learned to read, and Ancel had no sense of gratitude, because Berenger started to pay attention to him when the redhead said ill-advised words about one of the favourite author of Berenger's.

And now the prince was reassured, he didn't want that. He wanted what Jord and Orlant shared. He wanted to push someone as strong as Orlant to a smooth surface and push himself into the hot tightness of the soldier. He wondered what his heated skin tasted like, just salty or was it like damp earth, was it similar to the smell of the soldier's soap? 

He wanted to grip his waist and possess the power to keep him there, and to please him with the ease Jord had. To just make him feel so good, he wanted to be experienced enough to make Orlant lose him mind.

Because Orlant was having fun. He was now pushed flat on the surface of the bench, the smaller spears clinking together rhythmically as Jord started to really pound him. The captain reached forward to steady his hands on Orlant's shoulders, pulling him back to meet his thrusts, fingers splaying on the glistening skin of his soldier.

Laurent knew Jord's hand, he realized on the verge of hysteria. His back was aching from pushing it too hard to the marble surface of the column, his hand was trembling and even the loose laces of his breeches felt too tight. And he knew Jord's hand.

Jord's hand that claimed ownership over his friend's body was calloused from sword work, from building up tents and saddling horses. And Laurent knew the feel of his touch very well, every time he fell on his ass on the training ground, Jord offered a hand - both our of respect and comradeship - and while Laurent's pride didn't always let himself take the offer, he knew the hard but determined touch of his.

Laurent knew that Jord had a big cut on his palm, something from his late teenage years, left by a thought-to-be-friend, he knew the burn marks on his thumb from when his troops were attacked by mountain clans and during the fight he fell dangerously close to a fire pit, Laurent didn't even know he knew it, but no, it was disturbingly clear in his mind. It took all his willpower not to fall to his knees and just reach inside his pants, imagining it was the captain's strong grip.

Laurent couldn't defeat his curiosity or his bodily desire. He needed to leave, he wanted to leave, it was just that the whole scene seemed appealing, which proved it once again that Laurent should feel shitty. He shouldn't feel aroused by watching soldiers getting rough with each other, by Orlant's half annoyed, half expectant look, by drinking in the sight Jord presented, the look of a captain, perfectly in control of the situation. It didn't matter anymore that it was Jord's and Orlant's personal business, Laurent eyes were glued to the display.

Jord's look was calculating, touch perfectly familiar with the body laid out in front of him. Jord looked like he knew exactly how to keep Orlant there, how to make him feel so good, in a way Orlant ached to be treated in. And it was different. Courtiers were also cocksure of themselves, and pets were payed heavy sums to feed this belief. This was different. Jord might've been captain, but Orlant would've been too stubborn to only spread for position and coins. Orlant wanted this, welcomed this, because that was what he desired too.

"Be still," Jord flattened his hand on Orlant's back and the order didn't go unnoticed. Orlant face was pulled tight in a grimace, like he knew very well what Jord was going to do, if he disobeyed. Laurent whimpered quietly.

When it came to Orlant following the rules, it was done without hesitation - his loyalty was never a question - but with loud disputes towards Jord, most of the time. Now, he just seemed annoyed. Annoyed that Jord wasn't doing what was expected of him. But Orlant stayed put and just waited for Jord to do as he pleased.

A sudden disturbing thought race through Laurent's mind, about how often the soldiers did this. They didn't seem affected by how easily people could walk in on them, it was not such an isolate place. Was Laurent finding them only a question of time? Would've been an evening when Laurent upon forgetting something would've stepped out his chamber and as he opened his door he could came face to face with Orlant on his knees serving Jord the way pets did to their masters during feasts?

While the prince's mind was wondering, Jord started to ease into fucking, thrusting in a casual pace that made Orlant take deeper breath, like he was after training. During morning drills, sometimes even Laurent made him pant softly, while the soldier was almost grinning at him, because similarly to Jord, but in a less condescending way, he was proud of Laurent and his accomplishment.

Laurent at that moment, had difficulties breathing, he felt like he lacked air every now and then. He started to feel dizzy and yet there was no way he would leave this now, he would probably faint before he could consciously move away from this, no matter the guilt and shame.

Laurent, in the past, almost unintentionally, with the help of his vivid imagination, had inappropriate thoughts about Jord. Once or twice maybe, about how it would feel under Jord, his hard muscles, his controlled touch effectively taking Laurent apart.

In his fantasies Jord was considerate and somewhat shy, as in reality the captain got flustered just when Laurent offered to take a meal with him. So, he imagined him with shaky, careful caresses, slow and delicate touches teasing him, using his bodily power that could break Laurent in pieces to make the prince feel pleasure.

What he was seeing, was exceeding all his fantasies. Now, everything was firm touches in his mind, Jord laying him bare on the grainy sand of the training ground and taking him with that smirk playing on his lips he only showed Laurent when the prince sassed some annoying lord Jord wasn't strictly allowed to dislike.

Laurent wondered if and how Jord would prepare him, because Laurent wasn't exactly accustomed to take a cock like Jord's. Would Jord lavish Laurent with his attention or would he only take the necessary actions before pushing himself into Laurent, stretching him, filling him, making him his own in the most primal way.

Would Jord have him face to face, would he put his lips to Laurent's overheated skin, would he touch him, would he make sure Laurent had his own pleasure? Or would he just put Laurent to his hands and knees and make the prince come untouched, his pleasure only as a side effect of the captain's own?

"Are you going to fuck me or are we here so you can plan tomorrow's training routine for Prince Laurent?" Orlant complained, rather loudly and Laurent's blood froze in his veins. The first instinct of flight resurfaced, but it was overwritten by the sound Orlant made. Jord, the compliance he was, made sure his soldier was pleased and took a faster pace that would presumably lead to the systematic ruin of Orlant's ass.

And oh, now they were fucking. Their grunting was in rhythm with the slap of skin and the bench making squeaking noise. Jord was gripping Orlant's hip that seemed bruising, his face distorting into something cruel and funny looking.

It was animalistic, it was frightful, it was disturbingly fierce. And it was scandalously arousing. Just the wet slaps of skin and Orlant heavy moans made Laurent’s skin tingle. His back started to ache from pressure, the air getting warmer and warmer around him, his mouth turned dry and his fingers went numb as he kept his strong grip on the knife.

Orlant seemed to enjoy himself too, his breathing got shallower, his legs wavered, his head dropped down and then he raised it again and again, like he wanted to complain about something, before deciding against it.

Laurent wanted to be there instead of Orlant. He was hardly the most disciplined of the princes of that sides of the world, yet he felt like he could muster enough of self-control to make Jord actually want him. He knew he wasn't particularly ugly - a lot of courtiers made that abundantly clear every time he had the fortune to see them - and sometimes he caught Jord looking, when the captain thought he was being subtle. Laurent didn't know this was the kind of thing he desired. Now, it was crystal clear.

Laurent wanted to be held down by the captain, for once yielding without hesitation or cheating himself out of the situation, he would let Jord do whatever the captain desired to do to him. It was already too arousing to think about Jord having any kind of plans to undo Laurent and his focus, now that Orlant brought him up, it might have made place at Jord's mind too.

Maybe, the captain might have been thinking about Laurent, while he pounded into his soldier. Did he wanted to have him like that too? Would he actually do it, if the situation was given?

Jord was standing there, half naked, muscles moving under the sand colour skin of his, those muscles Laurent could acutely feel everyday he trained under Jord's command, that hard earned might that moved with surprising languidness Laurent always admired as he was put to the ground.

Laurent wanted to be between them, have Jord have his way with him, because Jord was strong enough to just take it, he could handle Orlant with one hand on the small of his soldier back and just have taken his pleasure with ease and experience, he could handle Laurent without difficulty.

And he wanted to fuck into the tight heat of Orlant's body, something he never had to opportunity to try, to lean down to kiss Orlant's back, to sink his teeth into the skin of a man bred under harsh control and the unforgiving rays of sunshine. Laurent wanted to be bedded by his guards.

All these fantasies were rather childish, definitely immature yet under the darkness of the alcove he felt brave. He felt brave enough to at least let his mind wander, wander far-far away. And with his brain otherwise occupied, his carelessness surfaced, once again that fateful night.

Laurent, maybe finally losing the circulation in his hand or just getting it too cramped to hold it, in the sensation tsunami he was under the knife fell out of his hand as he shifted, trying to adjust the hardness of his cock. It landed on the marble with a clinking pang and Laurent open his mouth to say something - apologise, pretend he just walked by, anything - but dread made his limb unmovable.

A hundred awful scenarios ran through his mind, wondering what reasons he could even come up to ease the situation. He was the prince real, punishment was not waiting for him, but he will never be able to look either of them straight in the eye.

It seemed Jord was too occupied with their activities, his eyes were closed and he was groaning low in his throat, almost non-stop, he wasn't affected and for a wonderful moment Laurent believed he got away with it.

Then Orlant's head whipped up, clearly looking for the source of the noise, pushing himself up on the bench, yet Jord was not slowing down. Laurent debated running away at the last moment but he was too late. Orlant visible recognised him in the darkness and all the blood left his cheeks. He looked like a deer, moments before hunting dogs got their claws into it. He looked so frightening, Laurent wondered if he was imaging the sudden shake of his hands.

"Shit," the soldier breathed out, eyes going wild, trying to signal to Jord by reaching a hand backwards to stop him. Jord, who was in the light of the lamp couldn't see Laurent and was now, it seemed, over Orlant and his complaints. Jord just grabbed his soldier's arm that was stretching towards him and folded over Orlant's back, pushing him back, flat on the bench, putting his weight into it. Laurent, like he was outside of his body, felt embarrassed for himself, how hot and bothering he found that swift movement. Running away way a distant idea once again, Jord's energy becoming Laurent's main focus.

Orlant didn't form a verbal complaint, maybe he didn't mind Laurent there, or maybe he realised he was already in trouble, calling Laurent out on it wouldn't have helped his situation. Laurent had no intention of either stopping or reporting it.

Jord was also picking up the pace, which could be another reason Orlant lost his voice now, he still tried to fight himself back into a more dignified position or to just check if his mind was playing dirty tricks on him in the image of Laurent. Unfortunately, he gathered enough leverage to be able to check the hallway again, now his eyes determinedly looking for Laurent. Or more his legs, before pain and a bit of regret pulled his face together, as he resigned that this was how he was going to be executed or something.

Laurent could sympathies, it felt like this would be the death of his too. Orlant with his cautious glances at his direction sending waves of hot desire at his way, and Jord with his stupid hands, keeping an adult man down while he was fucking into said man like it was nothing but a drill in the morning to just warm up.

They could be close now, Orlant slapped the bench with surprising movement and Jord's grip slipped, letting go of his soldier's arm, hands reaching for his hips instead. Orlant used this to stand on his feet again, the change of position causing Jord's throat to let out a strangle cry, too loud for Laurent to miss. Now, he knew what was going to haunt him in his bed that night. Something low and guttural, giving another twisting to his desire.

Laurent, belatedly realised that this whole thing made Ancel even more needless. His pet always insisted he would be more than happy to help with anything, and he really meant anything. Ancel was convinced Laurent like some dark shit in bed, that was why he never initiated anything, he was ashamed or something. It was entirely possible Ancel wasn't so delicate that he would have trouble playing this harsher role, yet it meant nothing. Laurent wanted that raw strength and bulky build these soldiers had. It was just different. Laurent wanted to have his soldiers, no matter how ridiculous that was.

"Oh, yeah do me harder," Orlant said word which sounded very foreign in his mind. Laurent realised it embarrassingly late that they were also directed him at a somewhat guarded way. "Do me just like that," he continued, trying how far he could go with Laurent present too. He was mostly babbling about how he wanted to be fucked, but Laurent would've been lying if he said it was not did the job, he was not far from actually taking himself in hand and to be hell with everything.

Jord, with a visibly powerful thrust of his hips, cleared his throat.

"You know, why I generally enjoy fucking you?" he asked Orlant. His soldier rolled his eyes but went with the game.

"I don't know, you like my ass?" he came up with a reasoning which seemed fair to Laurent. To his relatively inexperienced eyes, it was attractive.

"No. Ah. I like it because when I fuck you," he started and Orlant eyes wandered to where Laurent was hiding in the darkness, like the soldier wanted him to hear Jord's praise about his abilities, "at least you don't talk that damn much."

Orlant accepted it with unusual calmness. For the first time since he realized they had company, he looked up, brave and Laurent wanted to sink into the structure of the building.

"A pity. Maybe you should fuck my mouth next, then," he said and it was very clearly addressed to Laurent.

The prince couldn't really stop himself to reach down with his now free hand to touch himself, at least through the tightly pulled laces of his pants. Orlant couldn't possibly see him so clearly but the movement most definitely betrayed him, because the soldier was smirking now. Laurent was already trembling and felt like he was in Akielos in that scorching hot summer, he had to suffer through at a diplomatic meeting.

"Yeah, you should take me on my knees," Orlant continued a tad breathlessly and Laurent now wanted to faint. Jord didn't seem concerned, he ignored Orlant and his dirty talk, focusing his aim on shutting him up with his cock. Jord being the generosity itself, got a hand between the now mostly standing Orlant and the bench to give something his soldier to fuck into.

"I could make you come so fast," Orlant got cocky, now clearly and shamelessly talking to Laurent, while his partner was unaware. Laurent was not prepared for this. Now, he even had the opportunity to tease himself, with not just the view, it was dangerously close to something even more regrettable than watching his soldier fuck. "I would let you fuck my mouth, I would let you use me as you pleased, I would beg for your cock."

Laurent felt like he was burning, his knees going week, his mind spinning so fast he couldn't see straight. His fingers were gingerly caressing his confined cock, mind providing the visionary to Orlant's narration.

"Since when do you do that?" asked Jord, judging from the tone of his voice, also not unaffected by Orlant's scandalous words. Orlant smirked self-satisfied. His head was bent down, his gaze flickering up in a way that indicated submission in the filthiest way Laurent ever saw it presented and he had the fortune to see pets of the infamous court too.

"You could come on my face," Orlant said casually between moans and Laurent forced his grip on his cock to be anything but gentle because he was not going to survive the shame of coming inside his pants at an ungodly hour of the morning with Orlant perfectly knowing what he was doing to him.

"I would beg for it, I would crawl for it, I would do anything you wanted me to do. I would be at your feet anytime you wanted me to, I would kiss the floor where you walk, I would kiss the sole of your boot, just to be allowed to taste your cock." Laurent eyes fluttered shut, one hand softly massaging himself, other caressing his stomach.

He was now imagining Orlant in his chambers, on his knees, putting his rough, dry lips to the leather of his boots, hands behind his back. His kisses making wet and undignified noises as Laurent watched from above, making him do whatever he wanted. Gods, would the soldier like the worn leather of his hunting boots, dirt be damned?

Laurent was shivering uncontrollably, Orlant mindless offers making him loose his mind, with his submission clearly on display, brutal body only used to give something to the prince.

"You would just need to be there, I would take care all of your needs," Orlant babbled, losing it to desire fast. "Just... shit-, mark me as yours, please," Orlant whispered at the end as he started coming, wrenching a pained sound from Jord. And alright, Laurent didn't know he liked these kind of talk, but if the way his cock twitched hearing Orlant's pleading was any kind of indication… Maybe this was something he found worthy of experiencing. He learned an awfully lot about himself in the previous dozen of minutes or so.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jord whispered as he finished inside his friend, fingers whitening over Orlant's hips.

Laurent couldn't feel the fresh breeze that suddenly hit his face, he couldn't feel the smooth surface of the marble under his naked sole, he couldn't feel anything, just the burning desire, which at least left his pants damp with pre-come. Great, now shame was colouring his cheeks too.

Laurent was, thankfully, still somehow, in possession of his mind, unsatisfied arousal not blinding him to the opportunity when Orlant turned around to face Jord and the captain reached for himself, to make himself presentable again.

Laurent shot out from the darkness to the hidden part of the hallway that was actually protected by a wall, back to his boots, heart pounding, blood rushing to one direction. His hands were shaking and he could hear the faint conversation of the soldiers as he turned towards his bedchamber once again, but he needed to move now.

"Since when do you want your mouth fucked so eagerly?" Jord inquired with good humour.

"Oh, that, I was just trying to remind you, how great you are on your knees," Orlant snickered and Laurent almost stumbled over his own leg. There was no logical reason to slow his steps but he did anyway. "But since you became captain you never go to your knees for me anymore," the soldier complained, yet the smile could be heard in his voice. Probably the relief of Laurent leaving also lifted his mood. Even in Arles there was no protocol on what to do when a royalty walked in on you, without your partner knowing, and with the royalty, clearly, trying to keep it a secret too.

"That is no true," Jord's laugh rumbled softly. "Bigger concern that I'm pretty sure I saw blond locks." The jacket in Laurent's hand that he shed because of his body heating itself, shook. "Minervé should really stop lurking in the shadows," he mused, without concern. Laurent was getting too far away so he - disgusted with himself - chose this moment to put on his boots. He was pushing his luck, he hadn't crossed path with any other guards. Maybe Jord and Orlant really knew how to choose a place.

"Minervé?" From almost a hallway away, Laurent still could _hear_ Orlant's grin. "How do you know it was her? There are a lot of blonds in the palace," he said mysteriously.

"Yes, King Auguste must prefer watching us to his armada of pets and possible lovers. And headaches. Orlant hummed.

"What about the small prince?" Laurent had to close his eyes for a second. "Maybe he's interested," Orlant reasoned. "He's a man now and he always fancied you, for example." Oh, Orlant had nothing to worry about Laurent now fancied him too, it was catastrophic. "Ahhh, you would like his attention, wouldn't you?" he teased his friend.

"Yeah, sure who wouldn't?" Jord said dismissively, yet in a way that made Laurent blush, not that he was not likely red as an apple at this point. He was going to feel awful next morning at the same training ground when he had to look Jord in the eyes.

Laurent, upon returning to his room, violently ignored his guards, who in return, preferably ignored his flushed cheeks, thin sheet of sweat, technically just after his bath and his hard on that was only covered by his jacket held in front of his pants.

Once inside he brought himself off embarrassingly quickly, before he got truly disgusted with himself and felt like burning his pants. He decided against it, he just very conveniently let it fall into his washbasin, so the fabric dampened and got darker everywhere.

His mind was still racing but he felt like he could - and very well should - deal with everything next morning. He already knew he was not going to survive morning's training with Jord and Orlant at his side. Maybe he could fake illness, if his faces was going to heat up just like that the morning too.

Oh, but Orlant would know. Orlant from now on, was going to now everything, it seemed.

Laurent started to put out candles when a knock came to his door. His heart thumped loudly, panic rising again, the fear that he was caught somehow not fading entirely. He wanted to reach for his knife, stopping himself, because there was no reason to feel so alert. He had guards at his door and no intruder would knock politely, after disarming his soldiers.

He threw the door open by himself just to prove a point, he did regained his self-control, and he found Orlant in front of his chamber.

"Your highness," the soldier started, head bowed for much longer than it was customary, therefore completely un-Orlant-like. Laurent felt his face flush. "I found your knife in the hallways," Orlant reached out, offering the blade Laurent just lost a few minutes ago, to him. When to soldier finally gaze up at him, his face was apologetic and nervous, probably waiting for his punishment for what he just did in the garden. Both with Jord and the game he played with Laurent.

The handle of the blade was warm from Orlant's touch. Laurent violently ignored the resurfacing pictures of a laid out Orlant.

The soldier was waiting, almost expectantly to receive his penalty, so all of them could move on. Laurent wondered if Orlant had told it to Jord or not. Not likely. Jord would've overreacted it, coming to Laurent's on his knees, begging.

Laurent wanted to slap himself. He didn't need a mental display of the captain on his knees too. From the way Orlant squinted slightly, the warmness of his cheeks were evident. Laurent cleared his throat.

"Thank you. You are dismissed," Laurent aimed to sound generous and unknowing. Like this was no different than any other night. Orlant bowed his head and left without any further question. Laurent let himself gaze at the soldier's broad shoulder for a few seconds before blushing again and trying not to think about his guards stepped back inside his chamber, cheeks still rosy.

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry, I'm shitty at smut and I was just tired and couldn't keep looking at these words, please be gentle.
> 
> Also, there will never be enough Laurent/Prince's Guard fics, so that's why this is here. 
> 
> (Find me on [tumblr](http://answermywearyquery.tumblr.com/).)


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